


In the wake of Saturday

by fixme_in_fortyfive



Series: Songs stuck in my head [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Dirty Talk, Just smut, M/M, Peterick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:06:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6021430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fixme_in_fortyfive/pseuds/fixme_in_fortyfive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick and Pete spend some quality time together and then there's someone else joining in. Kind of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the wake of Saturday

**Author's Note:**

> You find mistakes, you keep them, except for misplaced limbs and people.

Pete likes to do this thing where he points out people that Patrick could do.

Patrick looks up from his book – Japanese for beginner – and focuses on Pete, who is slumped down on the big couch next to him. It had been a long day of interviews and traveling and now they just wanted to come down and relax. Just sitting with Pete was exactly that.

Like the cashier at the market, Patrick thinks back, where he always buys his herbal tea – which helps with his throat after a show. After Pete saw him talking to the guy, he told Patrick – in great detail, mind you – how Patrick could have had him. Bent over in the break room, just a quick thing while the guy was on his break. And Patrick hadn’t said anything at the time, adjusted his jeans, hoping Pete hadn't noticed his hard-on – as if. But he kept thinking about it and Pete kept doing it. Patrick never encouraged Pete, but he didn’t stop him either. Somehow Pete could always pick out the one man or woman Patrick so much as thought about thinking about. He is a man full of secret and weird talents, Pete, that is.

And then he took this thing one step further. Patrick had been doing an interview with Young Hollywood and the host flirted with him the whole time whenever the camera was off or they had a break. And Patrick tried his best to ignore it and be polite about it. Except that Pete was standing at the side of the set and gave him these looks. Patrick could almost see Pete’s thought drift into the gutter, the smirk that was almost a leer at Patrick and her.

And she was beautiful and exactly the type of woman Patrick has always been sure he could never have. And afterwards, when Pete had him pushed against the kitchen counter, he talked about her, while jerking him off with quick fingers. How he would watch them while Patrick took her apart, first with his mouth and later when he’d fuck her. Patrick came too fast, head thrown back and eyes closed – for a second imagining the blond-haired host. Pete’s dirty talk is either the best or worst thing ever.

Patrick is still looking over at Pete, so concentrated on his phone that he hasn’t noticed.

So Pete’s thing became Patrick’s thing and Patrick loved it – loves it. He discards the book, dropping it on the coffee table, and wriggles closer to Pete without standing up. They had already showered after they got home and changed into pajamas – it’s still the weekend, Pete had said, and in his opinion these days should always be spend in pajamas.

“What are you doing?” he asks and pushes his still-wet hair into Pete’s neck, rubbing his nose against the faint pulse he feels there.

“Just talking to Mikey, he sent a bunch of pictures from tour,” Pete mumbles in return, without looking up, but tangling his fingers in Patrick’s hair. It’s such a memorized move, he’s probably not even thinking about it and it makes Patrick’s heart skip a beat. His feet are propped up on the side table and he’s sunken deep into the cushions. Patrick swings one leg across Pete’s lap, pressing close against his side, feeling the warmth of his body. Pete was always warm, hot almost – like a radiator.

“Interesting,” he says and starts nibbling at Pete’s neck, trying to get him to focus on Patrick. Judging by the soft sigh that escapes Pete’s lips, he’s successful.

“Maybe, but I think there’s more interesting stuff going on.” Pete’s hand in his hair tightens and he can see Pete dropping his phone, letting it disappear between the cushions without any more thought.

“I hoped you would say that.”

Patrick lets his lips wander from Pete’s neck to his mouth, sharing lazy kisses, tongues pushing against each other. He feels Pete’s free hand on his thigh, pulling him even closer. When they part again Pete is smirking and Patrick’s stomach flips a little in anticipation. He can’t resist Pete, ever, he’s not sure how that worked all those years before they first kissed, before they were more.

“Funny thing,” Pete’s breathy voice begins, “Mikey and I have just been remembering our first meet up at Warped. You remember?”

“You mean how you always clinged to Mikey? Lovely memory.” He playfully bites Pete‘s neck. There were no hard feelings about the past, just some bittersweet regret for all the missed time – but they made up for it.

“Not what I was hinting at, but jealousy suits you.” That earns Pete another loving bite and Patrick feels the shiver that runs through his body, wants to cause it again and again.

“Then explain why we’re talking about your ex, when I’m trying to seduce you.”

„I wasn’t talking about Mikey, I was more thinking short, wild hair and lots of tattoos, not me. His name rhymes with ‘spank’.“ And Patrick thinks ‘Frank’ before he can stop it and stills for just a second when his mind catches on, but it’s enough for Pete to notice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tries to distract Pete with more kisses against his skin, now a little red from his biting, but he’s sure Pete won’t let it go.

“Or yank, crank, drank, prank, san-“

“Okay, stop it. God, you’re so annoying.” Patrick moves away a little, looking at Pete irritated, who is laughing in hushed tones. He’s not sure if he likes Pete teasing him that way. It reminds him about the awkward kid he used to be and god was he awkward. But Pete is having none of his doubts and pulls Patrick right back in, his hand moving up his body to fist in his loose shirt.

“Frank would have jumped your bones, if he hadn’t thought you would bolt and never come back.” Patrick can feel himself blush at the declaration.

That’s just ridiculous. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, it is. Mikey told me. And I’ve seen how he looked at you.” Patrick tries to will his blush away, but Pete’s amused smile is telling him he’s red as a tomato. “Like you’re a delicious steak and he’s a starving lion.” Pete emphasizes his remark with a push of his hips against Patrick’s and he sighs at the slight friction.

“I bet he still would, given the chance.” Patrick stifles the laugh bubbling in his chest.

„Yeah, bet he would, right before asking me to join him for a threesome with his **wife**!“ He hears Pete’s moan and he’s sure the thrust of Pete’s hips just now was not intentionally. And when they kiss again, Pete pushes on with his lips and tongue, with an urgency that wasn’t there before; pushing inside Patrick’s mouth and pulling his body close before shoving away a little, creating a steady sliding of their bodies against each other.

„I know you’re kidding, but that sounds hot,” Pete whispers into his skin and finally touches Patrick’s skin without any clothes between them, rubbing against his back and stomach.

 _Yes it does_ , Patrick thinks. God, he remembers what it was like on Warped Tour. That summer was brutally hot and Frank often wore white dress shirts and ties on stage, which were soaked afterwards, sticking to his skin almost transparent, hinting at all the hidden tattoos underneath. And Frank pushed every one of Patrick’s button without ever touching him. Plus, he hadn’t been clinging to Mikey.

Patrick is still thinking about that summer, not moving at all, when Pete grabs his hips and turns him around on his lap. It leaves Patrick’s whole body perfectly open for Pete’s hands, one still on his hip and slowly moving to press against Patrick’s dick and the other back in Patrick’s hair, pulling sideway to bare his neck. Patrick barely contains the surprised sound that’s threatening to leave his lips.

“I have seen an article about him, he looked so good.”

And then it clicks and Patrick gets what Pete is doing, trying to do. And Patrick curses himself under his breath, which sounds more like a moan, for taking so long to notice and his stomach drops. Because it is a different thing to fantasize about someone they knew, a friend or colleague.

“What are you doing, stop it,” he hisses and grabs at Pete’s hand on his dick, pushing it away, to get him to stop. His breath comes out uneven and he’s so turned on, but he’s not doing this.

“Come on, ‘trick, we’ve done this before.”

“We’re not doing this while talking about Frank.”

“Why not, it’s no different than before.” Pete sounds confused for a moment, not understanding why they stopped, what Patrick’s problem is, probably because it isn’t a problem for Pete – for whom boundaries are to be run past.

“Yes it is, we know him personally, and it’s like… crossing a line or something.”

“Come on, it’s just a fantasy. Don’t tell me you ever only thought about people you don’t know.”

Okay, point, but Patrick still thinks it’s a different thing.

“Plus, that thing in your pants tells me you’d like crossing that line.” Pete’s hand is back on Patrick’s dick – somehow they escaped Patrick’s grip unnoticed – and he is cursing his traitorous body, but can’t stop the moan that escapes his lips, as Pete rubs him again and again through the thin pajama pants. And with every second that goes by Patrick’s resolve is crumbling, getting smaller and smaller until he’s moving again, against Pete’s hand, straining his neck to catch Pete’s lips, not quite reaching, always a beat behind.

“Just think about him,” Pete goes on, his mouth right next to Patrick’s ear, hot breath puffing on his skin, “touching you. His hands will probably be rough from his guitar, like mine, but his touch would be all different.” And with swift hands Pete has his pants pulled down, the loose pajama bottoms not really putting up a fight, his hands not yet touching him, just hovering over his thighs and stomach.

“And he would hold you in place, just like I am right now.”

And that’s new, too, Pete talking about it like he’s the other person. But Patrick can’t stop imagining it. Not with Pete’s hands on his skin and his hot breath across his neck.

“Imagine all his tattooed skin. You love that, right? The contrast between your light, untouched skin and mine – his – all inked up and colorful.”

Patrick moans, because yes, he loves that, always loved that about Pete.

“You could see them, when he wraps his hands around you,” he goes on without a hitch and Patrick feels Pete’s hand close around his dick, already wet with pre-come, starting to pump him and thrust up against his ass and even though Pete’s hands are not tattooed Patrick can remember the different pieces on Frank’s hands and fingers. And the image drives him closer to the edge, but Patrick’s not sure he’s ready for it to be over yet, wants to draw it out.

“Would you let him have you?” The question comes unexpected and cuts into the good rhythm they had built.

“What?” The word almost catch on his lips and Patrick licks them a little.

“Come on,” Pete goes on, “tell me you would. You would totally let him come inside you, let him fill you up.”

Patrick’s hips snap forward just as his low _‘oh ye~es’_ reverberates through the room.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, but first he would need to open you up.”At this point Pete is basically manhandling him into the position he wants him in, removing his pants completely and throwing them over the couch, pushing him onto his knees and exposing him under his hot gaze. And now Patrick gets why Pete insisted on such a large couch, because otherwise they would have already toppled down to the floor.

When Pete’s hand leave his body, probably to find some lube, Patrick can relax a minute, try to get his breathing under control, to not shoot off like some teenager. He’s still pressing his face into the cushions, concentrates on not feeling any sensation just now. And it works, the intolerable need fades a little and changes into a low vibration, all rushing under his skin, ready to snap back into action.

All too soon and not soon enough Pete’s hands are back – no wonder, he stashes lube all over the house like his secret chocolate bars – and Patrick feels wet fingers between his cheeks. And he moans louder than before, jerking against the wetness, his thought drifting back to their little fantasy.

“You’re still thinking about him?”

Patrick doesn’t answer, as if Pete doesn’t know, but he’s sure Pete is getting turned on by this as much as Patrick. But Pete also never liked to be ignored and Patrick pays for it, when he pushes in two fingers at once and Patrick groans into the cushion again. The stretching burns a little, but feels great at the same time and he can take it, wants to take it.

“Of course, how can I not, it’s not like you’re easy to ignore like this. Pete, please.” His voice is muffled, but he pushes back against Pete’s finger to emphasize his point and Pete understands and for once he doesn’t play around, doesn’t tease until he's driven crazy and instead starts to pump his fingers into Patrick, setting a fast rhythm and stretching Patrick just right. Patrick’s moans take on a whiny note, a desperate tone, because if Pete doesn’t hurry up, this is as far as they’re getting, he already feels on the edge again.

“Come on, Pete!”

“Tell me, Patrick, how much you want it; beg me, like you would beg him.” Pete is almost draped over his whole body, his heat seeping again into Patrick’s skin, hotter than before. And his dirty talk should not make Patrick so desperate, should not make him want to comply, to beg. He’s not a beggar, but he wants this played out and fast.

“Please, please, just… god, fuck me, plea-” Patrick isn't even finished, wants to say some more, give Pete what he wants so Patrick might get it, too. But Pete is already pushing inside, the plea dying on his lips. He might act all patient and composed, but Patrick is sure he’s as desperate for it now as he himself. They both groan at the feeling and Pete wastes no time, not stopping for a second before pulling out and thrusting in again.

They move together perfectly and Patrick imagines what it would be like with Frank. They don’t know each other like this; it would be stop and go until they figured something out. Patrick tries to force them into something like that, something uncoordinated, and it works, mostly because he just interrupts Pete. The changed rhythm hits Patrick with a new angle, a better one, where Pete pushes in deeper, a little harder. And their groans and moans mix and Patrick is not sure what sounds are his and what Pete's, but it doesn’t matter, because together they always sound perfect.

Pete only stills for a moment to wrap his hands around Patrick’s body, lifting him up and now he’s leaning against Pete’s body, with Pete still inside him. It’s almost like sitting on his lap and now Pete is thrusting up into him, with his lips right next to Patrick’s ear again.

“See, I know what you want, I’ll always now. Still want me to stop?”

“Don’t… don’t stop.”

“Never. You’re so close, I can feel it. You feel so good, like that. Tight but so willing. God, he would love that, Patrick.”

And that image of Pete, no, Frank, sweaty and maybe moaning Patrick’s name, with his ink covered hands on Patrick’s body, holding on and pushing and pulling and coming inside him, buried deep, pushes Patrick that last bit. He comes with a long groan, pushing into Pete’s hand, covering it in cum, and he feels Pete coming too, inside him, just as he had imagined, still mouthing at his bare neck, almost desperate.

Patrick tries to stay upright, but his knees are straining and this isn’t a comfortable position and when he sinks forward, it’s only thanks to Pete that he isn’t landing on the wet spot on the couch. Pete’s hands are still on him, holding him up and rather pulling them both backwards – gentle compared to before - Patrick feeling him slip out of him, some cum leaking out as well. It made Patrick shiver all over again.

„That was…“ Patrick tries to form some words but is not sure what to say.

„…awesome!“

„Yeah,.. okay, yeah. God, how do you always do that?” Patrick was still breathing heavy, trying to get his breath under control. He’s not expecting an answer, but Pete never passes up a chance to gloat and boast.

“I’m just that awesome. I’ve been telling you that for years, ‘trick. And believe me, they would all come to you if you wanted to.”

“Mhmh… maybe.” That’s the closest Patrick comes to agreeing with Pete. He’s sure Pete’s wrong, but he’s not going to argue with him – it never works anyway.

“Stop overthinking ‘trick, and kiss me.”

Patrick is sure to follows that command - eager to do so - pressing as close to Pete as he can. He enjoys these moments as much, if not more, than anything else. The little kisses they share. And no one else is there in this moment, just he and Pete.

**Author's Note:**

> What now? I plan to mix it up a little now, maybe some real Patrick/Frank? Some Patrick/Dallon? I don't know yet. 
> 
> self-promotion: [tumblr](http://fixme-in-fortyfive.tumblr.com/) (duh, what else)


End file.
